Ryan Cox immediately straightened his neck like a proud peacock, his whole posture screaming, "I knew you wouldn't dare." He snorted, "Emily Blair's just a coward."

The words had barely left his mouth when Eugene Brian, who'd only just begun to relax, tensed up all over again.

Thankfully, Emily Blair showed no reaction to Ryan's provocation—her face remained calm and unmoved. Eugene breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Ms. Blair, you've had a rough day. I'll have a driver take you home right now, and we'll send someone over to formally apologize on behalf of our team. Would that be acceptable?"

"Whatever works," Emily replied.

Her easygoing response was a relief to everyone present; the staff exchanged glances, visibly relaxing as Eugene motioned for them to come in.

Emily turned her head to Andrew Lane. "Can you let go now?"

Andrew met her gaze and slowly released her wrist.

The tension between them seemed to dissipate all at once.

Eugene smiled and gestured toward the door. "Ms. Blair, this way, please. Our staff already took your assistant to change clothes, so let me show you out."

Emily nodded and took a step forward.

Eugene turned to lead the way—

But in that instant, Emily spun on her heel, lifted her foot, and kicked Ryan Cox square in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground with a brutal blow.

A fresh cut appeared on Ryan's cheek, blood welling up instantly.

Jordan Wilson snorted in disgust and strode back into the manor, with Samantha Gray following close behind, a smile on her lips.

I lowered my eyes.

How absurd-coming back to the house I'd grown up in, yet needing permission from Mila Wilson and Samantha Gray just to enter.

Mila clung to Willie Lee's arm, her voice sweet and pleading. "Willie, let's wait for Emily, okay?"

Willie looked down at her, then reached up to gently ruffle her hair, his eyes full of indulgent affection. "Alright, sweetheart."

I ignored the hostility and rejection in Zoe's gaze as I made my way toward Willie, my attention fixed solely on him.

I heard him say, "At least you're sensible."

We held each other's gaze until Mila's smile faltered, and then I finally spoke. “Let's go inside."

The living room was ablaze with light.

So many years had passed, yet here I was in the same house. Only now, every inch

of the décor screamed Mila Wilson's taste-soft pinks and pastel shades

everywhere. Pink had always been her favorite.

Once, it had been green-my color, my preference.

Everything had changed.

They clustered together on one side of the room. I sat across from them.

Jordan Wilson broke the silence. "Now that you're back, just stay here and behave yourself. As long as you mind your place, I won't throw you out again."

Samantha Gray smiled with gentle politeness. “I'm afraid Isabella will have to make do for a while. The guest rooms upstairs aren't ready yet, so the only available room is on the ground floor."

I looked at her; she gave me a sympathetic smile. "It's just for a short time, Isabella. Once the upstairs is ready, you can move in."

The ground floor was where the maids and staff stayed; the second and third floors were reserved for the family and their honored guests.

Her intentions couldn't have been clearer. Samantha Gray's saintly expression hid a heart of stone.

I smiled back. "No need to trouble yourself, Auntie. I'll just stay in my old room." Everyone's expression changed. Samantha's smile faltered, her voice tinged with regret. "But, darling, Mila's staying there now."

I feigned surprise, then forced a weak, resigned smile, lowering my gaze. "Is that so? But that was my room..."

Mila looked uneasy, her voice soft and apologetic. “I'm sorry, Emily. I can move out right now if you want."

She started to rise.

But Jordan Wilson couldn't bear to see his daughter put out. He scowled, glaring at me. "Enough. It's just a room. Why can't you let Mila have it? Haven't you grown up at all after all these years? The upstairs rooms will be ready soon you'll just have to make do downstairs for now. That's final. No more discussion."